


Deliver by Hand

by MadameHardy



Category: Chronicles of Elantra - Michelle Sagara
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:30:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameHardy/pseuds/MadameHardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaylin Neya would really, really like to be allowed to do her job.   If only her orders didn't keep getting in the way ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deliver by Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sumeria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumeria/gifts).



Kaylin did not particularly want to see Nightshade that morning. Which would explain why she was walking through his fief, glaring at the half-fallen buildings, the dirty streets, and the few visible inhabitants, who were avoiding her as always. Kaylin never wanted to see Nightshade -- the fief or the lord -- which was, of course, why her fate insisted on shoving her into his path whenever it seemed amusing.

It had been one of the really bad nights at the midwives’ hall. Kaylin had been called because the midwife in charge had had a sixth sense that _something_ was wrong. This sort of feeling would normally have been ignored, except that it came from Annelyn, who had seen more births than even Marya could remember. If Annelyn was worried, then something about the birth was indeed out of the normal. 

Worse, it had been abnormal in a way that even Kaylin could not help. The baby had been in a normal presentation, and the labor had proceeded normally up until the moment that the baby took its first gasp of air. Then, as Kaylin had been tying off the cord, the mother had taken one deep breath and died. Her heart had simply stopped, for no reason that Kaylin could see. There had been nothing left for Kaylin to heal: the woman’s soul had fled before Kaylin had known anything was wrong.

As Kaylin walked down the street, automatically cataloging the fieflings’ locations, expressions, and probable intentions, most of her mind was taken up with the birth. _Something_ must have been missed. There must have been something Kaylin could have seen, could have heard, could have _known_ , and if only …

Her ruminations were interrupted by arriving at the front gate. Mercifully, Andellen was one of the guards; that meant she had a sporting chance of getting an answer.

“What do you _mean_ , he’s still not here?”

“I’m sorry, Lord Kaylin, Lord Nightshade remains unavailable. I am unable to extend his hospitality at this time.”

Kaylin put her hands on her hips. _Do I have to stand in front of your gate shouting that your mother wears her hair funny?_

There was silence in her head. Perhaps the fieflord really wasn’t there. That in itself was bizarre; recent experience notwithstanding, he very seldom left the fief.

_I’m pretty sure somebody would have mentioned it if he’d died._

There was still no comment in her head. Whatever Nightshade was doing, wherever he might be doing it, he was not paying attention to Kaylin. Kaylin felt oddly abandoned, and wasn’t _that_ ridiculous? She turned and walked away, ignoring her surroundings as much as was consistent with the requirements of survival. If there had been a rock handy, she would definitely have kicked it.

####  
Two days earlier Kaylin had made the bad, _bad_ mistake of going drinking with Teyla and Bellusdeo. One -- well, don’t say woman -- female with an unlimited capacity for alcohol, an enthusiasm for battle, and a complete lack of personal boundaries was bad. Two, and it was a wonder any of the bars on Barley Street were still standing. Elantrans who managed not to take offense at either individually were often apt to comment on the sight of the two together. Or at least, they commented _once_. The next time Kaylin got dragged out with the pair of them, she might as well wear a sign saying “Kick me, I’m mortal.” The results would be the same.

And of course, on a morning when she was slightly more hung over than the gods of brandy, beer, and scrumpy combined, her mirror had awoken her. It was Caitlin. 

“Dear, I’m afraid you’d better come in. Marcus wants to see you immediately.”

Kaylin had sat bolt upright, dragged on the cleanest clothes she could find in a hurry, coiled her hair, and headed out the door. 

Marcus had met her in the entry hall of the Hawklord’s Tower -- another thing that should never happen -- and handed her a folded piece of parchment. “Get that to your fieflord friend. It’s urgent.”

“Tiamaris?”

Marcus had snarled and Kaylin had automatically lifted her chin. “I can contact Tiamaris without going through the ridiculous process of waking you and waiting for you to slouch into work. This message needs to reach Nightshade a little sooner than yesterday, the usual channels aren’t working, and you just volunteered to deliver it to him.”

“But why --”

Marcus’s growl had deepened, and Kaylin’s neck had stretched as far as it could. “Yes, _sir_.”

But Nightshade had been nowhere to be found, either in person or as the disembodied voice in the back of her head. Today was the third time she’d sought him out, and the third time she’d failed. When she’d first mirrored Marcus to report failure, he’d told her to go away, and not to bother coming back until she’d delivered the message. There was an uncomfortable undertone of _ever_ , but Kaylin was reasonably certain that was just exasperation. Reasonably.

Kaylin reached the edge of Nightshade without incident and crossed the bridge, which was (of course) nearly empty, over the Ablayne. She stopped on the far side and stared glumly at the passers-by. She had an urgent message to deliver and it wasn’t getting any less urgent with the passage of time. It wasn’t as if there were anybody she could ask for help; Teela disapproved of the fieflord explicitly and comprehensively, her opinions were kindly compared to the Consort’s and High Lord’s, and the less said about the various dragonlords’ opinions, the better.

_I have no great opinion of them either._

“Where _were_ you?” A passing carter gave Kaylin a curious look and she glared backautomatically.

_You must learn to communicate with greater control. There is no need to speak aloud._

Kaylin thought several useful Leonine words with great emphasis. There was no reply.

_I have a message for you from the Hawklord._

_Yes?_ There was a note of disdain in Nightshade’s voice, a reminder that he was in no way responsible to the Emperor’s Law.

_No, I mean a physical message. Paper. Sealing wax._

_What is on the seal?_ All languor was gone from Nightshade’s tone.

_I’ll check._ Kaylin pushed her way through the crowd, earning a bushel of glares, then leaned against a convenient wall and pulled the letter from inside her tabard. _It’s gold. The wax, I mean. The seal is blank. It’s just a round dent in the wax._

_I shall meet you at the Tower at nightfall._ And the presence in her mind was gone.

Swell. One more day spent kicking her heels, one more day that she could have spent solving actual _crimes_. But Kaylin knew better than to show her face in the Halls of Law without having completed Marcus’s errand.

###  
Of the many things she hated about visiting Nightshade -- Kaylin had a list, regularly updated and not getting any shorter -- going through his portal was close to the top. The top spot was reserved for being condescended to, something that was equally inescapable. Kaylin made it through and arrived in the entry hall, was dizzy and nauseated as usual. Nightshade wasn’t there to meet her.

_Shall I just drop this in your inbox? Do you even _have_ an inbox -- _

_I have no time for your mortal wit._ “Wit”, Kaylin was pretty sure, was short for “half-wit.”

_Should insults be necessary, I assure you that they would possess far greater subtlety … and force._

Oh, great, insults _about_ insults. This was shaping up to be Kaylin’s best visit ever. _I’m supposed to deliver this into your hands. This is a problem, because I can’t even_ see your hands. Where are _you?_ That, Kaylin realized too late, had definitely been a whine. 

_Why did you choose to forgive your Severn?_

_I’m not going to talk about that!_

The silence she got in return was eloquent. Nightshade used silence as expressively as Kaylin used Leontine… and for much the same reason.

_You may deposit the parchment on the table to your right._

Kaylin was pretty sure there hadn’t been any table, to her right or otherwise, when she entered the room. Out loud, she said, “I’m supposed to give this into your hands.”

_Anything you bring into my tower lies within my hands._

Including herself? To Kaylin’s relief, Nightshade was once again silent. She deposited the letter on the table, seal side up, and turned to face the damned portal.

_Until we meet again._

Kaylin wasn’t entirely sure whether she took that as a threat or a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to miaou for beta.


End file.
